


Viola on the Mantle

by timehopper



Series: Original Character Works [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Aidoneus has always been fascinated by the viola on the mantle. Why hasn't he ever heard it played?
Series: Original Character Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573795
Kudos: 4





	Viola on the Mantle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightysophist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightysophist/gifts).



> One year ago I wrote this story for my [best friend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophieinflight/pseuds/flightysophist). Now here it is so it can be relived again and again and again!
> 
> Aidoneus and his mother both belong to belongs to [flightysophist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophieinflight/pseuds/flightysophist).

It’s beautiful, hanging up there on the mantle.

Aidoneus has always loved that viola. It’s been in his family for generations, played by hands far more skilled than his may ever be. He can only imagine the audiences that have heard its music: high courts, fair-goers, kings and queens and dukes…

And yet there it sits, sleek and shiny and without a day of wear on it, mounted to the wall above the fireplace.

It’s a relic. An heirloom, his mother called it once as she stroked a long, graceful finger over the strings. She takes great care to keep it clean and free of dust, like a prized possession. Aidoneus has never heard her play it, though he has begged her to on more than one occasion.

“I'm no good at the viola,” she tells him again and again and again. But he still asks.

And one day, he gets his wish.

“Please!” Aidoneus begs, tugging at his mother’s skirts. Ever graceful, his mother just chuckles to herself, runs her fingers through her son’s thick, voluminous hair, and walks toward the mantle. Aidoneus holds his breath; he doesn’t dare to hope she might actually play for him. But she does. Aidoneus beams as mother takes the viola from its spot on the wall, lifts it to her shoulder, and slides the bow along the strings.

And he promptly covers his ears. It sounds _terrible._

He can recognize the song his mother is trying to play - the notes are all correct - but the instrument is so horrendously out of tune it may as well be something he's never heard before. He squeezes his eyes shut as if somehow, that will help to block out the noise as well.

Seeing him, his mother laughs and lowers the viola. “I told you I was no good.”

“You just have to tune it better!” Aidoneus insists. He makes a grabbing motion toward the viola, but his mother holds it out of reach.

“Oh, I do, do I?” She laughs, and when Aidoneus cheers ‘yeah, yeah, yeah!’ she sets to work, fetching a tuning fork and adjusting the instrument until she's pleased with it.

“And… there. That should do it.” She sets the tuning fork aside and places the viola back on her shoulder. “What do you say; shall we try again?”

“Yeah!”

He does not miss the smarmy smile she gives him as she drags the bow along the strings and once again produces the most horrible noise Aidoneus has ever heard. He doesn't know how she managed to do it, but somehow, the viola sounds even _worse_ than before. How can she be _this bad_ at playing when she's so good at everything else?

His mother spares him any further discomfort and lowers the instrument once more, laughing as she sets it back in its place. “Do you believe me now?”

She sits down on the chair and beckons her son to him. Aidoneus hops up onto his mother’s lap, his tail hanging over her knees. She flicks his nose and Aidoneus laughs. “Yeah, I believe you.”

“Good.” His mother looks up furtively at the viola, a mischievous grin firmly in place on her lips as she leans in close, whispering conspiratorially to her son: “But do you want to know a secret?”

Aidoneus’s eyes go wide. He knows this cue, and he follows it, lowering his voice right back. “Yes, please!”

“It’s not actually my fault that it sounds so bad.”

Aidoneus’s mother leans back up. She’s still smiling, even as Aidoneus gapes at her. “Nuh-uh!” he says.

“Yuh-huh,” his mother retorts. She points up to the viola and turns her son to face it, too. “That viola right there… it’s magical.”

“Magical?”

“Mhm. It belonged to your father. The last time that viola was in tune was the last time your father played it.”

Aidoneus’s mouth slides shut. He stares at the instrument contemplatively, trying to puzzle it out. It really is such a beautiful instrument - it’s a shame it has to stay on the wall like that. He wants so badly to hear it play, but…

“And you can’t just tune it?” Aidoneus asks. He already knows the answer even before his mother shakes her head.

“No. I’ve tried.”

“Hm…”

He isn’t satisfied at all, but Aidoneus knows there’s no helping it right now. His mother gives him a quick kiss on the forehead and lifts him from her lap, setting him down on his feet in front of the chair. “Maybe one day we can get it right. But for now, you can play any other instrument you like. Shall we pick one out?”

Aidoneus smiles. “Yes, please!”

* * *

Years pass. Aidoneus never again asks his mother to try playing his father’s viola. But he stares at it every opportunity he gets, just trying to imagine how wonderful it must have sounded when his father played.

As the years go by and he gets taller - tall enough to reach up and touch it himself - he remains fascinated with it. With its reddish tint, with the way it never seems to gather dust, with the way it shines when the sunlight seeps in through the window just right.

He dreams about it, sometimes.

He dreams about his father, playing it and tapping his feet. He dreams about his mother, dancing to impossibly beautiful melodies. Sometimes, he even dreams of himself playing it. Whenever he does, his mother dances her best, most beautiful dances, and the two of them laugh together. Crowds form around them, cheering them on and dancing themselves. Aidoneus is never happier than he is in those dreams, free to show his face to the world and to do what he loves.

But he always wakes up.

Aidoneus knows there’s no point in trying to pursue that dream. He’s happy enough as he is, living with his mother and playing the instruments he _can_ tune. She dances for him, and every day his playing gets better. He doesn’t need the viola.

And yet, it calls to him.

He swears he can hear its music even after he wakes from his dreams. But any time he checks it’s still there, hanging up over the fireplace, untouched and unattended and silent. Aidoneus has sometimes wondered if he’s going crazy, thinking about it like this.

One night, he decides to find out.

He wakes in the middle of the night. The notes from his dream-song still linger in his ears, and he follows them, sliding out of bed and tiptoeing to the den. He looks up at the viola, somehow shining in what little moonlight slips in through the cracks in the curtains. He stares at it and the music in his head grows louder.

He reaches for it. Takes it off its mount.

Aidoneus breathes in a small, shaking breath. He hadn’t noticed how hard his heart had been pounding until the viola is in his hands and it settles into a more relaxed beat. Holding his father’s viola feels… right, somehow. Like it was made for him.

Maybe it was.

He lifts it to his shoulder. Takes a deep breath. Raises the bow.

And he plays.

The notes from his dream-song are still playing in his mind, and though Aidoneus does not know how to translate them to the strings, he plays the notes he can figure out anyway, the messy chords sounding fragile and uneasy…

But the viola is perfectly in tune.

He hears the thumping footsteps of his mother running to the den. Light from her candle trickles into the room little by little until she appears in the doorway, casting her face in warm light and dark shadow. Her mouth and eyes are wide open, but Aidoneus hardly registers her shock. He’s too shocked himself at the sounds he’s made.

“...Wow. I’m… terrible at this.”

“Aidoneus!”

He sees his mother’s face morph into an expression of sheer, unbridled joy. She puts the candle down on a side table and runs to her son, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight. “Aidoneus, sweetie! It’s… it sounds beautiful! Oh, honey, it’s in tune! You’ve done it!”

Aidoneus can hardly understand what he’s just heard. He laughs, a strangled, tentative sound, at first, and then it grows into something free and jubilant. He can feel the first heat of happy tears prickle behind his eyelids.

Aidoneus gives his mother one last squeeze before she pulls away, putting her hands on his shoulders. “So! I think it’s about time I taught you how to play the viola.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> If you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1122210346939244544). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
